


Difficult Little Devil

by UnholyHelbig



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: Alcohol had an electrifying effect on a lightweight such as Emily Junk, she would set a drink limit for herself- one that she broke entirely after walking in on her girlfriend of two years with the downstairs neighbor. A night of hapless drinking morphs into something more after a chance encounter with an odd stranger, one she's not entirely sure exists.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell, Emily Junk & Aubrey Posen, Emily Junk/Aubrey Posen
Comments: 35
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**[Hey, so if you guys have followed me for a long while, you have seen this first chapter before. It's been close to a year since I started it and have about ten chapters written up already. So please refresh yourself with this chapter, and let me know what you think!]**

**The alcohol had** an electrifying effect on a lightweight such as Emily Junk. She could practically smell a single frothy drink and feel the effects of something that her body hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. It made it easier on her friends when they were the ones buying, but every high would eventually come to a crashing low.

Tonight, her low was drinking alone in the corner of a hole-in-the-wall bar. It wasn’t in the part of the neighborhood that a corporate woman such as herself would dare allow to venture into without the accompany of someone twice her stature, but its blatant open sign left a lasting impression on her. It buzzed, it’s neon color reflecting on the street. 

Emily tipped her head back and gulped down her second (maybe it was the third) whiskey of the night. She chewed on the one ice cube that still rested it the bottom of the spotted cup. Natalia would have called the bartender over with the commanding wave of her hand. It could capture anyone’s attention, she didn’t’ even have to call out.

She had hailed a cab so easily in the Manhattan rain the night that the two of them first met. Her hair was sprinkled with droplets of water and her breath was like a separate object in front of her. Emily had been trying to get a checkered car to notice her for ten minutes. She remembered feeling like a drenched rat that belonged in the subway system. Natalia didn’t’ see her that way, though. And they shared a cab.

That, of course, was before Emily found the German beauty in her own bed with the downstairs neighbor. She was ever the charming one, and he had _just come over to fix the showerhead_ like Emily had promised she would do a million times, but she never did.

“Chole,” Emily slurred her words, leaning her head against her hand “I should have fixed the showerhead.”

The bartender that stood in front of her looked fuzzy. Everything looked fuzzy at this point. But it was her spot. The spot that she used to make the room feel less like it was spinning and more like she was sitting on a bar stool that she could feel the springs press through.

“It’s Chloe,” The woman responded, taking the glass and letting it clank behind the counter as she dropped in in a black plastic bin. She placed both hands on the top of the surface. “What showerhead?”

“The one in my apartment, keep up.”

“Sorry, go on.”

Emily let out a triumphant huff of air and Chloe grabbed a bigger glass this time, but it was for water. She set it in front of the young customer. She ignored the straw that was placed in front of her and took in four generous gulps. “My girlfriend wouldn’t have fucked the neighbor if she didn’t invite him over to fix the showerhead.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Chloe gave the girls arm a slight squeeze before reaching down and grasping the bin of used glasses. The bar didn’t seem to be very busy on a Tuesday night. She balanced it on her hip, a white towel stained with god knows what was strung over her shoulder. “Fuck her, then.”

“I wish I had.”

“Not what I meant. If she has the decency to cheat, then she doesn’t deserve you in the first place. You got a ride? Last call is in a few.”

Emily frowned down at her water. She had walked here and eaten two bowls of the corn nuts that they placed out on the table. Natalia would tell her not to touch those, that so many people who had their hands in their pants also had them in the snack dishes. Corn nuts tasted like gravel anyway, but Emily scarfed them down out of spite. She regretted it now. 

“I can walk,” She said, pointing a finger towards the bartender “You know, you are very nice, Chole.”

“Chloe,” She reminded gently, “I’ll call you a cab.”

The bartender had vanished after that, and Emily realized how empty it was. There were metal signs tacked to the wall. Route 66. Feel good Avenue. They weren’t real, the colors were too clean to be. Instead, they were purchased and hung up with putty. There were neon ones too, they blinked and buzzed like the open sign. Emily couldn’t even hear a cook in the back. Just the woman dropping her dishes.

Emily took another sip of her water, this time slower as if not to drip the cool liquid onto her shirt. Her blazer was slung against the back of the chair and her heels were down by her feet. She had a big meeting today. Crushed said meeting with her hands tied behind her back. She just didn’t expect to walk into the scene that she did.

She had asked Natalia to kindly collect her things and leave before she broke down in the stairwell of her apartment building. She hadn’t realized the good acoustics of the place until her sobs rang out with little consequence. Natalia probably heard her, and Emily prayed that it hurt.

“They’re on their way,” Chloe walked back through the door, a soft look on her face. Emily wondered if she was always this nice and caring. She had the stature to go along with it, and crinkle lines near her eyes from smiling way too much. “You going to be okay?”

“I should be fine,” She sniffed, dragging her arm very unceremoniously against the base of her nose. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me? Why is that?”

“I cleaned you out of all your corn nuts.”

Chloe laughed and it was a sweet sound, a streak of red moving through the cracked blinds of the small bar. They both fell into silence as their eyes flashed. They were too bright to belong to a simple cab. Too sporadic and Emily felt her stomach drop even more. They hadn’t heard sirens, and Emily didn’t’ know if it was because of her dulled state or the simple fact that they didn’t’ sound.

The corner street was nearly silent, it was around two am and Emily found it desolate when she wandered into this place nearly an hour and a half ago. She had only seen the headlights of three people and she remembered thinking this was a bad place to put a bar- right by a stoplight. The yellowed lamps of vehicles bathed the checkered floor each time a car dared to turn.

“An accident, maybe.” Chloe offered.

“I’m going to go look.”

Chloe wanted to object, her mouth propping open before she slammed her jaw shut. Emily was already out of her seat and reaching for the door. The bartender let out a deep sigh before she glanced around the bar and followed the woman onto the curb in the coolness of the September night.

The ambulance was parked in the middle of the intersection, all four lights that hung overhead were flashing the same crimson. There were two cop cars, each silent with their blues dimmed. There were no cars, no metal folded upon itself like silly putty. Nothing either girl could make out with a simple glance.

“Jesse!” Chloe called.

One of the officers, a decent looking one with boyish charm, looked up from his paperwork. He was leaning into another, speaking evenly before his eyes followed the sound of a familiar voice and he excused himself. He half-jogged over to the two of them, a sad smile on his face.

“What happened?” She asked, tucking her hands into her pockets to scrounge up some warmth.

“A hit and run,” He informed her, glancing around the crime scene. “It’s sad, really. Some kid coming home from his job on a bike. Whoever did it skid out of here pretty fast. You hear anything?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Is he hurt?”

The officer, Jesse, glanced down at his shoelaces like he didn’t’ have much in him to speak anymore. He looked cold, his sleeves were short and his tie was long. It was the type of uniform that Emily didn’t ever understand. It was like wearing shorts and a sweatshirt in summer. Socks with sandals. A long-sleeved shirt under a tank top.

Emily didn’t’ think she wanted to hear his answer, it was apparent enough by the green look on his face and the way the ambulance hadn’t moved from it’s very spot. She instead swept the area; there was a liquor store that had closed early on the opposite street corner. A hot dog stand that brought down those tacky cages that locked the bottom. A book store that had a for sale sign in the window. And a woman.

She stood right near the hood of the ambulance, her features shaded in a red hue each time the lights changed their setting. She held a certain type of confidence that commanded the attention in the room, yet, the other two officers hadn’t spared her a second glance. She had ducked right under the swinging police tape and crouched near the front tire. Her blonde hair looked blood red and her knee hit the pavement like it wasn’t red. She moved like she was talking.

Emily crossed her arms over her chest and lilted her head to the side.

The woman turned, shifted her direction until her emerald stare met that of Emily’s in a way that could freeze time. A beautiful woman who would stop traffic even if Emily hadn’t downed her fair share of alcohol tonight on impulse. She didn’t offer up a smile or even the nod of the head. Instead, she turned back around and stood, walking behind the ambulance with little conviction.

“Hey, you alright?” The officer caught her attention. “You look a little pale.”

“Did you see that woman?”

His eyes leaked with concern as he turned slightly and stared at the same crime scene that he had his back to a few moments ago. He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a slight look.

“She was just here, I swea-“Emily leaned over quickly, feeling metallic taste fill her mouth as she spilled her hearty dinner of corn nuts and three whiskeys on the rocks against the pavement, and the Officers clean pair of loafers.

“Oh,” Chloe’s little breath of a voice could be heard as she held Emily’s hair back away from her mouth.

Jesse rolled his shoulders back and swallowed before taking a slight step away. “Get home safe, ladies.”

Emily suddenly felt a lot less good about her choices tonight. She had never thrown up on a New York City police officer before and certainly didn’t expect him to be so polite about it. Maybe it was the rain that clouded the street with dense fog or a near-stranger with a comforting nature rubbing small circles on her back. But either way, Emily couldn’t quite forget those piercing green eyes, and the woman no one seemed to notice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, Chapter two! I have unexpectantly put a lot of work into a book that's been sitting in my drafts forever. But this story is close to my heart... though it is dark and twisty. Let me know your thoughts!

**Emily regretted her** decision not to get thicker drapes when she had the chance. When she first got her own apartment in the city, her mother took her shopping at one of those big chain stores that had everything. If she wandered long enough, she would find a toilet plunger and anti-wrinkle cream.

Instead, she had draped herself over the cart and groaned each time her mother wanted to pick and prod over every type of curtain. She had just waved it off and now she was stuck with a sheer white sheet that protected her from the outside world, but not the unforgiving sun.

She groaned and peeled the sheets away from her legs. The fabric was drenched, and the entirety of her body ached. Emily wasn’t sure about the last time she drank this much, or if she had a habit of drinking at all to dull the pain. She stuck to light beers in tin cans while Natalia hung onto the heavy stuff in the liquor cabinet that was officially a danger to Emily.

Emily pulled herself from bed, pressing her fingers against her temple to ease the headache that plagued her. She remembered bits and pieces of last night; the whiskey being the main duller. There was a bar- Owen’s, she was sure. There as an ambulance, and an accident that was hazy. _And a girl._

Emily struggled to turn on her Keurig. It was loud, her head pounded as she breathed in the sharp scent of caramel that filled the room. Part of her wanted to go to that very liquor cabinet and pull out the honey bourbon to pour to use as a sweetener.

She did go over the expertly crafted item that sat in the corner of her living room. There was a set of fancy glasses that laid untouched on the tray. She didn’t’ see much stock in them unless someone from work showed up without an invitation. Emily pulled it open with a dulled pop and eyed the different selections.

She grasped the bottle of Jack Daniels and the half-full container of redemption rye. It made her mouth moisten and stomach churn at the thoughts of last night. Skye Vodka that she pushed to the side completely and a bottle of aged wine that she never cracked (and wasn’t supposed to until her wedding day, if that ever came.) She palmed a third bottle, the seal of the Four Roses broken for one drink and nothing more. She wondered how strong the plumber from downstairs took his liquor.

Emily abandoned her coffee and padded into the shared hallway of her apartment building with the three sloshing containers filled with alcohol. She struggled to balance them without clinking too much as she shifted them to one arm and pounded on the door directly across from hers. It echoed, the metal cold against her touch.

The door creaked open after a short moment. Her neighbor rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and Emily wasn’t quite sure what time it was anyway. Beca had a tendency to sleep past noon on a regular basis so she didn’t’ feel too guilty, especially when she came bearing gifts. The woman yawned and moved a hand up the edge of the door before cocking an eyebrow. “Legacy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You drink?” Emily asked.

“Do I ever-oh,” Beca stepped to the side when Emily walked into the apartment that mirrored hers. It had bothered her the first couple of times, the way that her kitchen was on a separate side of the room, and the bathroom too. But she had spent enough late nights here to ignore that fact now. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”

“I have all of this stuff, and if I don’t get rid of it then I’ll drink myself to death.”

Emily set it down on the coffee table littered with music magazines that had been highlighted and filled with sticky notes. Beca had a process, and she knew that, but it often looked like chicken scratch and nonsense to her. She avoided the half-eaten pizza that rested in a half-closed box, pretending that the scent of grease didn’t egg on her hangover.

“Okay,” Beca sounded out cautiously as she flopped down on the leather sofa. She grasped a room temperature slice of coated crust, picking off the pepperoni that had collected a pool of wetness in the middle of the night. “Mind me asking why that German girlfriend of yours can’t guzzle it down? Not that I’m complaining. Liquor is liquor.”

“She cheated on me.”

“ _ouch_ , harsh.” Beca frowned at the slice of pizza in her hand before throwing it back down on the pile of other uneaten food. Emily melted onto the edge of the sofa, letting out a groan. “I want it to go on record that I never liked her.”

Emily ran a hand over her face, squeezing the bridge of her nose as she clenched her eyes shut. “Noted. I think I drank myself past my prime last night. Threw up on a cop.”

“You what?” Beca was laughing now, an instant smile across her lips ass she straightened up on the couch completely, her socked feet placed on her carpet as she beamed “Not like, a traffic guard, right?”

“No,” Emily groaned and drew out the word, remembering last night “He had a uniform and everything, and I upchucked all over his nice shoes.”

Beca leaned forward and palmed the bottle of Four Roses, watching the buttery liquid slosh around for a second as she read the nutritional facts like she had picked up a pack of chips at the grocery store. “No offense, Emily, but I’ve never admired you more.” 

“Shut up,” She grasped one of the throw pillows and tossed it towards Beca, the older woman deflecting it as she hugged it close. “It was mortifying. The bartender called me a cab and all… but he was working this hit and run. The Bartender knew him.”

Beca swallowed and placed the liquor back on the coffee table. The two of them had grown up in the city. Hit and runs were normal, expected, even. They would just ignore the flashing lights and curse if morning traffic interrupted their schedule.

“I think I left my phone,” Emily said after a stint of silence, her deep coffee eyes flashing towards Beca and the older woman forced a sigh past her lips, lifting both eyebrows. “Please,”

Emily stuck out her bottom lip and placed her palms together like she was praying to a higher power for some type of mercy and Beca scowled, her own midnight eyes rolling in contempt. “Begging doesn’t suit you, Legacy.”

“I could get mugged.”

Beca let out a soft groan before she stood from her spot on the couch and grasped blindly at her leather jacket that was strung against the middle shelf of the bookcase. It was filled with written notebooks kept under key and a few autobiographies that Emily was never sure if Beca actually read. She slid it on before wandering into the nearby hallway. Emily settled with a triumphant smile and ran her sweaty hands over the fabric of her pants.

“Hey, Em?” Beca was pressed against the corner of the wall, her cheek flush as she gave the woman a soft look. “I’m sorry about Natalia. I know she meant a lot to you.”

Emily sniffed and gave Beca a small nod. With any other person, she would fall into them and let the snot run freely before eating her way through a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. But Beca was different. A hug was rare and an act of genuine emotion (Albeit awkward) was enough to make Emily swallow back the lump in her throat and muster a slight nod.

Beca shoved some shoes onto her feet and straightened up before pushing her hands into her pockets and giving Emily a pensive stare “Right, so, I’ll only go with you if you buy me a drink.”

“It’s eleven am and I just brought you a hundred dollars’ worth in liquor,” Emily said.

“Not enough.” She shrugged “I have to charge you every single time you make me leave my apartment, you know?”

Emily pulled herself from the leather couch, that was surprisingly comfortable for the state that it was in and opened the door that opens to the hallway. She let Beca lead the way, the older woman never locked her door, Emily deemed it a hazard but Beca explained that it was a convenience.

“What’s this place called?” Beca asked, opting for the stairs instead of the elevator. The stairwell was cool, and Emily’s chest tightened at the thought of yesterday, her eyes shooting to the fire escape sign that was tacked to the white-painted brick wall.

“Owen’s, I think.”

“Oh! I heard that place has free corn nuts.” 

“Shut up and keep walking.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I bad at uploading when I already have this thing written? Believe me, it's possible. Anyway, here's some reading material if you guys are stuck inside- and please remain that way!

**The bar looked** different in the daylight, though, not much of it got through the slatted blinds. It harbored a cloud of thick dust, and Emily instantly struggled to blink away the sunlight that still clung to her clothes. A charger’s game was floating across the length of the bar, one man staring up it while shoving greasy fries past his mouth. He didn’t’ bother with a napkin before reaching for his beer and leaving glossy prints on the silvery label. 

The open sign buzzed above her shoulder as a bell chimed.

She hadn’t noticed the checkered floors or the way different signs hung up against the forest green walls. A classic sports bar that was unequivocally empty on a Sunday morning. Too early for a football game, and even earlier for midnight drinking. Emily glared at the Route 66 tin sign and Beca let out a low whistle. 

“I didn’t picture this as your type of establishment, Junk.”

Emily truthfully didn’t’ either. She figured that she went to the only open place last night, her throat still raw. Owen’s was an underground place that relied on repeat customers and not the new and fresh scene that her music company drummed up every day. It was a welcome change. One she almost craved now.

The bartender was the same as last night, and Emily wondered evenly if this was just the Devil tormenting her. She felt bad for the tired-looking employee, though her crystalline eyes still shined a deep and captivating blue. She remembered her nights washing dishes in college- the long hours and the impossible stench of beer that would seep into every inch of her clothes.

“Hi, I’m not sure you remember me from last night. But I think I left my phone here.”

“Of course, I do. You’re vomit girl.”

Beca snorted and Emily felt her cheeks instantly rush with an unfamiliar heat. She couldn’t’ blame the woman for the short jab- she was sure it was a highlight of the night, mainly because it wasn’t on her bar floor. Instead, it was on the sidewalk in front of it.

“And you did leave it, Who’s your friend?” The redhead’s stare darkened as she combed it over Beca, who suddenly sobered herself up. She was dressed in sweatpants and a tight-fitting t-shirt, certainly not in the mood to pull herself out of her house this early. Still, the bartender grinned. 

She was digging behind the counter, ducking down as Beca gabbed her elbow into Emily’s side, raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes. “I’m Beca. This is Emily.”

“Someone keeps blowing this up.” She stood upright, sliding Emily’s smartphone across the counter. The girl grasped at it quickly. “If it’s her, then I’d advise you not to answer.”

“It’s probably the office… thank you though, for last night.” Emily said earnestly as Chloe leaned against the counter. “I honestly don’t think I would have made it home without your help.”

She hummed with a slight nod and let her eyes flick back over to Beca for a moment before ultimately staying on Emily. “Well, anyone would be a bit shaken after a breakup. Then the hit and run-“

“You’re sure you didn’t’ see that woman?”

“Woman? What woman?” Beca asked.

Neither girl answered her, instead Chloe furrowed her brows. Emily couldn’t tell if she was even entertaining the idea: It was near impossible, to see someone at a crime scene, only to vanish into thin air within the next second. Her mind was bubbly with the effects of alcohol and her heart was buzzing. It was entirely possible that even she didn’t see the girl with the golden hair.

“No, I’m sorry.” She must have seen the dejected look on Emily’s face, her hand reaching across the counter to squeeze another. “Look, I’m not saying you _didn’t_ I’m just saying that maybe there is a reason that only you did.”

“That… was very beautifully put.” Beca leaned against the counter an Emily had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes. She was pressing forward just enough for her shirt to slip down to the unforgiving gaze. Chloe swallowed roughly and lilted her head. “Any chance I can trouble you for a beer?”

Emily supposed that Twelve was a more acceptable time for Beca to start her drinking binge, and Chloe wouldn’t refuse a sale. She started to ask what the girl's poison was when Emily politely excused herself to take another buzzing call from the office. She couldn’t’ push them off forever, though, she would love to keep her weekends to herself.

“Emily, I really hate to bother you on your day off.”

The calls always started like this, though she softened to her assistant’s voice. The air was oddly warm when the sun fluttered down, and the scent of rain hung heavily. She leaned against the side of the bar- listening to the list of demands her next clients had. It was easy to get lost in the one-word answers.

“And their manager wanted a direct line to you, but I said that was nearly impossible. He barely took no for an answer. Said that he would take the band elsewhere if this kind of treatment persisted.”

“He can try,” Emily let her eyes flutter shut, head resting against the brick. “We both know he doesn’t have enough money to break a contract mid-album. I’m sure once he blows off some steam he’ll come to his senses. Beca knows what she’s doing.”

She listened for a few more moments before the noise of the city around her became distorted. Not by the usual sirens, or the scent of fuel. It was something more- a shout for help, something that made her eyes shoot open as she pushed off the wall.

Emily was staring straight ahead at the opposite block, an apartment building and a group of people huddled around something she couldn’t’ quite make out. One man- the one that had caught her attention in the first place, was shouting for help.

“Em? Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call you back, Jess.” She mumbled softly, clicking the phone off as she watched the scene in front of her, nearly cemented to the ground. It was a hotel- or maybe temporary living, but it was a big blocky building that used to be apart of a large factory, just like Owens. The windows weren’t secure. Had someone jumped? Fallen to ill fate?

Emily swore she could smell the scent of blood, hear the echoing call of someone else begging for a nearby doctor. No one stepped forward. But then there was her: that very woman from the night before. But this time there was no police tape or flashing red lights. In fact, she looked calm.

Her features were just as stilling, blonde hair falling over a black t-shirt. The girl’s lips were pursed, and her back was against the brick wall of the apartments. No one seemed to notice her, and Emily wasn’t sure how they couldn’t.

The stranger suddenly glanced her way, like she felt the stare of another. Emily hadn’t realized that she stepped closer to the curb. That her boots hung off the side of the street. She got a devilish cat-like grin in exchange.

Emily opened her mouth to call out when the ambulance whirled by, it’s siren deafening as a hand grasped onto the back of her shirt, pulling her from the path of the oblivious vehicle. She vaguely registered the hands on either side of her arms, squeezing tight enough to draw blood to the surface of her skin. The woman leaning against the wall was gone, and the crowd across the street parted for the EMT’s.

“ _Dude_ what the hell?!” Beca’s voice drew her in, “You have a death wish or something?”

“Wha-“

“That ambulance could have hit you. Fuck, I know you’re going through some shit right now, but try not to be flattened by oncoming traffic, yeah?” She brushed Emily’s jacket with her hands for good measure, furrowing her brow. “Come on. You owe me that drink, and I started a tab.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, the angst- also please don't prosecute me about my terrible translation in this chapter. Stay safe and for the love of God drink at least one glass of water a day.

**Emily stared at** the computer screen until her eyes burned. Moisture collected against honey irises; her face pressed close enough to the computer screen to hear the hiss of electricity. She squinted at the words, pulling her knees closer to her chest. For the first time in a week and a half, Emily didn’t have the urge to pour bourbon into her coffee to make it lighter. Instead, she took it without cream or sugar. The bitterness kept her awake.

She had been searching the internet relentlessly in a tree-like pattern. She had started off with how many deaths per second there were in the World. It was two. Two people every second. It didn’t sound like that much- not when there are 7.53 billion people in the world. She had witnessed two in the last two days. They lasted longer than a second.

After a long while, Emily moved on from statistics and shifted to the impossible.

Someone was there with each death. Not right when it happened, but during the bloodied aftermath. The kid on the bicycle, the woman under the window. Both strangers, but both met with a blonde-haired woman with toxic eyes and sharp features. No explanation. That’s all Emily could come up with. Absolutely nothing- other than a stomachache from her fifth cup of coffee in twelve hours.

There had to be a pattern, but she couldn’t string one together other than untimely demise. Her research took her into different legends- Canaanite mythology spoke fondly of Yan Luo- a being said to judge you upon death, but the woman didn’t have any discernment in her stare. In Albanian culture, there was the demon of death and evil named Djall, which Emily later deciphered as another name for the Devil himself.

Nothing in foreign myths lined up, so she started to search closer to home- the grim reaper. A simple personification of death. Not one thing or one person, though often displayed through a skeleton with a long cloak and reaching scythe. People had claimed to see dark angles leading them away, and even darker forces pulling them in but Emily always chalked it up to bullshit.

Emily remembers laying in bed with Natalia, her arm wrapped easily around her stomach while she listened to the steady beat of her heart. Emily didn’t’ want to let go. Not then. They were watching a horror movie- a classic slasher flick where everyone ended up dead in the end, all except the final girl. Emily would hide her cheek in Natalia’s chest each time the music got louder. Natalia was barely affected.

“How does this not scare you?” Emily propped up on her elbow and stared into the girl’s eyes as the credits rolled against a velvet screen. “You barely flinched.”

“Freund Hain läßt sich abwenden nit mit Gewalt, mit Güt, mit Treu und Bitt.” She said softly, her voice a low growl. Her stare moved back to the screen for a moment before finding Emily’s once more.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Natalia let out a small chuckle, not at all demeaning “It means, Friend Hain cannot be turned away by force, with goodness, with good faith, and with love.”

Emily nodded quietly and sat up in the small queen bed. She stared at the girl she had fallen so quickly for. So suddenly and all-consuming. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap before speaking. “Friend Hain is…”

“Death,” Natalia confirmed. “Some form of him that’s been written in history. There is nothing to fear of him because he comes anyway. There is no reason to run, or to try and dodge that… that psycho killer with a machete. What is done, is done.”

“that’s a very morbid way of looking at things.”

“hmm.” She hummed, “I would not fight for myself against that… Jason? But you? You’re worth facing Freund Hain.”

Emily leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss close to Natalia, weaving her fingers through blonde hair while breathing in the scent of rain and the soft skin under her fingertips. The girl let out a sly giggle before falling back into the down pillows, the movie long forgotten.

She cleared her throat and slammed the laptop shut. It left the room dark and cold. The curtains shifted in the wind and Emily leaned back against her bedframe. It was frigid. Soaking into her t-shirt. She blinked away the afterlight of the screen and wished desperately that she hadn’t given all the alcohol in the apartment to the tiny DJ across the hall.

Emily padded into the kitchen and filled a glass at the edge of the sink with some room temperature water before taking three even gulps, droplets moving from her chin. The balcony doors were wide open, spilling in a dull light that the moon created. She should close them- but they were shockingly chilly. Enough to keep her awake.

She was used to the sounds of the city by now. The lull of cars pulling by, the shouting of friends across the street. And right now- the overabundance of sirens, red and blue lights flashing against an aged brick. She swallowed once more and set the glass down before flicking on the television.

_“The fire at City National bank continues to ravage a historical part of town. Something that was once a hostage situation has most likely turned into a homicide. Police are asking people to stay away from the roads at all costs to allow emergency vehicles…”_

Emily tuned out the rest, the woman reading from a teleprompter was nothing but white noise as she grasped blindly at her jacket and wallet. She shoved it into her pocket before giving herself even a millisecond to guess again. She turned to lock her front door, fingers resting against the metal, trying to keep quiet. Trying to stay out of sight.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Fuck!” Emily yelped in surprise as she turned away to face her neighbor's door. Beca was leaning against the frame in her pajama’s. Half a bottle of Makers with its wax seal broken rests in her hand. But she didn’t’ look the least bit drunk, buzzed, maybe. “You should wear a bell.”

“You’ve been held up in that cave of yours for three days. You look like hell.” She ignored the comment. “And now you’re suddenly leaving when the city is a God damn war zone?”

“It’s not a war zone, it’s a fire. They happen all the time.”

Emily knew it was harsh the second she said it. But her anxieties were high. People were dying. And part of Emily thought, part of her knew, that maybe this mysterious woman would be there. Playing with the grim reaper just as much as she was chasing it down.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that, and instead, I’m going to ask what the hell is going on with you lately?”

The taller girl pressed her back closer to the door, her nails digging into the metal. “Are you kidding me? Beca, I just walked in on my girlfriend of two years fucking a _plumber_?” 

“I know, but the normal response to that is eating ice cream and burning the pictures you have of the two of you together, not throwing yourself in front of an ambulance and searching for some woman that doesn’t even exist!”

“You don’t know that!” Emily shouted back at equal volume before she steadied her shaky breath. Her finger was pointed at Beca, slowly lowering back down to the ground. “You don’t know that, and I have somewhere to be. Goodnight, Beca.”

She pulled open the metal door to the stairs before the older girl had a chance to protest, a chance to reach out and wrap her fingers around her arm to stop her from pressing forward. Her touch ran against the railing and emitted a high pitch noise as she burst into the lobby, and finally out onto the city street.

The scent of hot ash filled her throat, even in the starkness of the night. The bank burned, lighting up the sky a few blocks over. Ash fell like snow, and Emily Junk pulled her hood up over her ears, walking straight into the heat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I procrastinate with this story so much, most of it is already written- I'm just lazy. Anyway, I hope everyone is holding up alright, the world is wild right now, so please stay safe, and let me know what you think!

**The sirens echoed** against the city’s walls. It made her ears ring like a bell that tolled every hour. Even from two blocks away, Emily could smell the smoke. She could smell the crumbling of the building’s walls. As she got closer she lifted the collar of her shirt, shielding her from the plumes of ash and melted flesh.

They had set barricades up: orange and white planks of wood to keep the curious public from stepping too close to the flames as the famous bank burned in the night. It was morbid, the utter curiosity they all possessed. The same inclination that slowed them down when an accident occurred on the freeway or a police chase was broadcasted on every news station. Emily shoved her way to the front, her fingers on the wood as it splintered.

“Have they said anything?” She asked, lilting her head to the side at one of the people pressed firmly like she was. An older woman with graying hair and the outline of a zippo lighter in her pocket. “Other than what the news…” She trailed off.

“They don’t think anyone made it.” The woman’s voice was hoarse, and she didn’t’ take her eyes away from the flames. “They haven’t brought anyone out yet, but they keep sending men in. That’s what the news won’t tell you- that every single person burned alive in there. That’s what they won’t say.”

Emily swallowed the sour taste in her mouth and decided not to ask any more questions.

Her fingers curled against the barricade as she watched the scene in front of her unfold: Water was being doused at the base of the blue and purple flames as indistinct chatter roared through the radios attached to shoulders. The woman was right- there was an ambulance on standby, but no one was in it- no one wrapped in a silver blanket or being treated for burns.

She squinted at the scene, the pit in her stomach growing solid. Maybe it was a good thing that she hadn’t seen the vixen with blonde hair and sharp green eyes. A woman who had Murphy’s law pitted against her and happened to be in the wrong place twice. Just like Emily.

“Hey, I know you-“

Emily snapped her gaze to the man in front of her. He stood with the same blue police uniform. Sweat dripped against his orange shaded face. It stretched his features as he struggled to pinpoint exactly where she was from. The woman next to Emily gazed at the exchange.

“Right, you threw up on my shoes,” He breathed, a bit of a dorky grin on his face despite the situation in front of them. It faltered. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was on my way home from the office, streets were blocked.” She lied through her teeth. She couldn’t’ quite find his name in her memory bank, but she had been drunk and sick, and the memory of spilling a bunch of corn nuts over his shoes was more pertinent than an actual name. “This looks bad.”

“It is bad, made national news, and everything.” His radio crackled for a few seconds before a code was called and he glanced over his shoulder at the slowly crumbling building. “I have to go. But you try to get home, alright? Take some side streets. It’s not safe out here.”

 _Yeah, that’s kind of the point._ She nodded and appreciated his sentient. The heat from the fire licked at every inch of exposed skin and she started to regret the coat but took one step back. She wasn’t here. That was a relief, a cold and damning relief.

Emily took a slight step back before she looked at the scene once more and turned for her journey home. There was an instant cold that worked over her as the color of blue and red police lights faded away from bricks and slowly drifted into the darkened allies that her city had always offered. She tightened her fingers around her keys and kept her head down as she passed under a streetlamp. The sirens fading away to a dull ringing in her ears. 

She replayed the argument that she had with Beca in the hallway while she walked.

The two of them had had disagreements before but it was usually spurred on by the exhaustion of trying to move a sofa up three narrow flights of stairs, or irritation after fifteen-hour drives cramped in a car when they missed a flight or two. Never like this. Emily didn’t think she ever opened up to anyone like she had Natalia, and maybe this mystery woman was something her brain cooked up in the form of a distraction from the pain. Maybe she needed a good pint of ice cream.

Emily stalled her steps in front of the bodega on the corner that she passed every day on the way to the metro. Its open sign cast a deep purple glow as it buzzed like an insect cornered in a glass prison. Her breath pooled in front of her and her chest ached enough for her to pull the door open, a bell sounding upon her entry. 

The lighting was unnatural and bright. A wall of coolers held different coke products and a few energy drinks that she used to guzzle when she was in college. The taste brought back acid flashbacks as she walked to the far-right unit and pulled open the door to Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She didn’t’ see how this would make her feel any better but scanned the aptly named flavors anyway.

“Chocolate chip cookie dough usually dulls the pain.”

Emily’s fingers tightened around the handle of the door and she nearly dropped the carton of Phish Food that was in her grasp. The woman stood like she was searching the different selection of soft drinks in the cooler to her right- she didn’t’ take her eyes away from her prize. The neon light lining the coolers shaded her face, made her features look sharper. Darker.

She was dressed casually- a black pea coat over an even blacker shirt. She had her hands shoved in her pockets and tresses of stark blonde hair pooled around her shoulders. Emily didn’t think it was possible, but she looked almost godly up close. Not shielded by the crowds attracted by peril. Not edged by the flashing lights of law enforcement.

“What?”

“Ice cream only helps so much, you know?” She finally made eye contact. Emily felt electricity strike her fingertips. “But _if_ I were to choose a flavor to drown my sorrows in, it would be chocolate chip cookie dough, you get the coolness of vanilla ice cream and the satisfaction of cookies. What's not to like?”

Emily glanced around to make sure she hadn’t been swallowed up by the smoke of the fire a few blocks back. “Is it that obvious?” She asked with a small laugh.

“That you’re hurting? Not without a keen eye.”

She nodded numbly and watched as the woman pulled open the cooler door and grabbed a can of Coke, balancing it in her fingers before she gave her half of a stunning smile and a lift of her chin. And then she was gone- and the loudest thing in the room was Emily’s blood rushing past her own ears. She stood like that for a few moments- stale like a statue.

Then she switched the carton in her hand for Chocolate chip cookie dough and waded her way up to the front of the store. Her boots hollow against the tile and her focus pooled somewhere else. She pilfered her pockets until she found a crumpled up five and got to the counter.

Emily paused in her movements.

There was an eerie quiet around the store and the scent of blood hung thick in the air. Something she had become quite familiar with over the past week, now. She tightened her grip on the sweet treat and scanned behind the counter- packs of cigarettes undisturbed but coated in a thick layer of crimson. Her throat tightened. She leaned over the counter.

Emily stumbled back- the man, a clerk that couldn’t be a day over thirty was sprawled against the tile. Blood nearly touched the baseboards as it soaked around him- making his already crimson shirt dark and brown with its touch. The register was open and emptied.

“Shit,” She breathed out, words shaky. “Shit.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question; if I post this on August 27th, did I really even post it?

**She used to** get motion sickness in the car when her father decided it was time for a road trip to a cabin that he rented from the Montgomery’s every summer. It was a four-hour trek and half of that time was spent on a long stretch of highway that happened to be engulfed in Douglas firs. But after another half of an hour, they would start to climb higher in their little padded station wagon. 

Emily’s stomach would lurch and squeeze in on itself like a stress ball until she begged her father to pull over and let her gain a grasp on her surroundings. One day, on the way up to the lake, her mother pulled open the glove box and produced a marker- forest green like the threes whirling by. Much to her father’s dismay, a small little dot was drawn on the headrest, right in Emily’s sightline.

“Focus on that, Emmy.” Her mothers’ words were soothing and dulled nausea. “Anytime you feel like you’re not grounded, stare at the dot. That’s the only thing that matters. You and the dot.”

It worked like a charm. She had something to keep her mind on. Something other than the steep cliff that stretched above her head. The sharp turns that jostled them around: kept Emily’s nails pushed into the plush seat.

Emily decided her spot was a framed Bon Iver album Beca had tacked up to her wall by the bookshelf. It had a vast collection of literature despite Emily never seeing her neighbor pick up a book in the first place. Maybe it was all for show. She couldn’t make sense of the album art- a picture of a dying tree muddied by falling rain.

She didn’t’ flinch when Beca placed a folded up blanket next to her on the arm of the leather couch. The place had been cleaned up of old pizza boxes and the bottles that Emily had given her earlier that week were housed away in a cabinet somewhere. The place smelled like sandalwood, Beca was compensating for something. 

“There are more blankets in the hall closet if you need them.” Her voice was soft, poking at tender skin after visibly seeing sunburn against a raw edge. She had been kind enough not to mention the heated conversation they had a few hours before in the corridor. “I’m going to keep my bedroom door open… if you need… I don’t want you to hesitate if you can’t sleep, or don’t like what you see when you do.”

She nodded numbly and accepted the kiss that Beca applied to her forehead, ever the gentle friend. She didn’t make a move to flick off any of the lights, leaving that up to Emily to decide. They would stay on for most of the night- she was sure.

Emily eventually leaned back on the sofa, her fingers spread against her slowly rising and falling chest. Her hair was still wet from a shower Beca forced her to take, sitting on the edge of the toilet and babbling about absolutely nothing just to get a response. A sign of life as the bathroom slowly filled with bubbling steam.

Emily stared at the ceiling and ran the pads of her fingers over the blanket that Beca had given her. She had moved her spot to a small blemish against the paint. Probably where a potted plant used to hang- but it left a little black circle similar to that of a green marker on the back of a headrest.

She blinked a few times, tightened her fingers around the blanket, and drew in a painful breath. Her throat was sore from standing so close to the flames of the fire. They told her that she had been screaming.

The blood had touched the edge of her sneakers before she had yelled loud enough for the woman who lived above the convenient store to hear. She was the one who called the police, and Emily numbly sat in the back of an ambulance until Beca pulled up and took her back here- quiet and calm. Her heart still racing.

There was a distant knock at the door. Maybe it had been soft from the start, or maybe Emily had dissociated enough to notice. Beca seemed to hear it from her room at the end of the hall. She moved silently, her socks padding against the floor with subtly. Emily continued to stare at the ceiling, listening to the creaking door and the hushed conversation that followed.

“I forgot to text you.” Beca whispered, “Now’s not really a good time.”

“I brought pizza,”

Emily could smell it now. The thick crust and the gooey cheese that melted with peppers and onions and maybe even pepperoni. It made her stomach clench. Beca sighed heavily and glanced towards the girl who was curled against her leather couch. She was hugging the door, blocking the stranger. It was around three am, the clock ticking right next to the Bon Iver album.

“I’m okay,” Emily found herself saying, catching the attention of her neighbor. Those stark cobalt eyes were pouring into hers. Worrisome. “I’m okay.” She assured.

“Did you repeat that for my benefit or yours?”

Emily squinted her eyes “ _yours.”_

Beca snorted out a laugh and opened the door the rest of the way, moving aside so the owner of the voice could walk into the mix of modern and vintage music memorabilia. It was the bartender, Chloe. The one with the vibrant stare and the kind smile. She was true to her word and carried a checkered white and red pizza box with cartoon tomato on the front.

“Hi, Emily.”

“Hi, Chloe.”

“I’ll take this.” Beca grasped at the food box and walked it into the kitchen, Emily curling her fingers into the fabric of her shirt once more. She must have just been getting off work. That little shared beer had probably resulted in traded numbers and a few one night stands that apparently culminated pizza. She went back to staring at the ceiling.

“Am I missing something?” Chloe lowered herself onto the ottoman and stared up to where Emily was. “On the ceiling, I mean.”

Emily scoffed and she could hear Beca fussing with plates from the mid-level cabinet that they resided in. There was nothing interesting on the ceiling, nothing at all. But it was better than looking anywhere else. At that album on Beca’s wall or the inevitably pitying expression that Chloe was sure to possess.

She eventually let out a groan and sat up, placing her feet on the ground and her fingers traced the leather of the seat she had carved a person-shaped hole into. She felt dizzy, nauseous even. Chloe watched her with ease, but thankfully without that tilted stare. Instead, it was concern and she nodded at something asked behind Emily’s shoulder, too oblivious to care.

“Take this,” Beca shoved two little neon orange pills into her palm before producing a glass of water to go with it. She had dropped a tablet in that as well- the bubbles collecting at the top like a frothy mess or a beer that Emily would gratefully accept instead. She tilted her head back and swallowed them dry instead, leaving the glass on the coffee table next to Chloe.

“They took my shoes.” Emily finally said. “I mean, I get it, there was blood on them and technically it was evidence but those were nice shoes.”

Beca cast a wary look towards her counterpart before staring tenderly at Emily like she was supposed to react in any other way. But all she could think about was the spot on the ceiling and the sneakers that were covered in thick crimson syrup.

“The uh,” Beca edged to a leaning position behind the sofa “The ones with the flames on them?”

“They sound neat.” Chloe nodded; her words not unkind.

Beca hummed in acknowledgment. “Oh, they were. We were on a road trip to Las Vegas for a recording session with this up and coming band. Nothing around but a shit ton of sand and a little stand on the side of the road selling hand-painted crap. I got a neat key chain and Em got those shoes.”

“That’s a good way to get murdered you know?” Emily looked between the two “Stopping at a shack like that on the side of the road.”

There was a lull of silence as the three of them stared at one another and a clock somewhere in the room became too loud to comprehend. She felt Beca’s hand on her shoulder as she gave it a slight squeeze. “Good thing we didn’t’ then, huh?”


End file.
